Lovely, Dark, and Deep
by kgregs
Summary: "I know Shane wasn't right in the head. I know he did a lot of wrong, and I even know that he put us all in danger, but that doesn't change the fact that he was my brother, and it certainly doesn't change the fact that you killed him. So keep your apology. I don't want it." Rick/OC/Daryl


_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my OC, Joanna Walsh, and my plot. Everything else belongs to Robert Kirkman and all the other lovely people who have given us _The Walking Dead._ The poem at the beginning of this prologue is credited to Robert Frost._

_So this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while now and I thought I'd finally get it out. I'll be honest: I'm not sure where it's going, but I hope you'll be interested in maybe finding out. I'll tell you what I do know. The prologue takes place directly after the events of the final episode of season two. Chapter one will pick up early on in season three, after they've moved into the prison and before Lori dies. The "pairing" will likely be Rick/OC/Daryl, but I'm not sure how literal it will be, if that makes sense. Anywho, please enjoy and drop a review at the end!_

_(Quick note to my other readers who might see this: Don't worry, I haven't stopped writing "Turn On the Lights." I moved out on my own for the first time about a month and a half ago, and besides that I've been battling some major writer's block. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up within the next couple weeks.)_

**Prologue**

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,  
__But I have promises to keep,  
__And miles to go before I sleep,  
__And miles to go before I sleep._

It's funny how the human brain works. Jo couldn't recall the last time she had thought of or even read that poem, but there it was. Not all of it, but just the final verse. The final verse was the relevant one.

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep._ No, these woods weren't lovely. They were cold, and threatening, and full of danger—full of death. Death that walked around on rotting limbs and craved to make a meal of the living. Although, Jo supposed, for some death probably was a lovely thing compared to this waking nightmare. _True_ death, that is. The kind you couldn't get back up from.

_But I have promises to keep_. It was one promise, to be exact; a promise that Jo had made to Lori months ago, before Rick had made his miraculous return. On the night Atlanta had been destroyed, as they had watched in horror from the highway as bombs rained from the sky, Lori had turned to Jo and made her promise that she would look after Carl if anything ever happened to her. Circumstances were different now, but that was a promise Jo intended to keep.

_And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. _As for those lines—they were literal.

_Snap._

A twig broke underfoot somewhere to the right and Jo instinctively reached for her tomahawk. She pushed herself up on her haunches, readying to attack, but when the figure emerged in the moonlight she relaxed. It was Rick.

"It's just me," he said, hands raised in surrender. Jo settled back onto the soft, damp ground against the Beech tree, but said nothing. There wasn't much she wanted to say to _him_ at the moment.

"You shouldn't be so far away from the camp by yourself."

She almost scoffed at him. It wasn't as if she had wandered off into the darkness of the woods; she could still see the light of the dying campfire through the trees, the silhouettes of their sleeping companions outlined against the flames. "I needed a moment to myself," she returned, purposefully adding a bite to her tone. She wanted to be left _alone_.

But she should have known: Rick Grimes didn't care what _she_ wanted. He had all but declared this a dictatorship not an hour ago, and evidently right now _he_ wanted to talk.

"I'm sorry about what happened to Shane, Joanna."

"What _happened_ to him?" That time she _did_ scoff. "You mean you're sorry you _killed_ him?"

"It was him or me," he tried to explain, his voice gruff and quiet. "He used Randall as a ruse to draw me out there and kill me. I had to protect my family."

"_Your_ family? What about _my_ family, Rick?" Jo was on her feet now, brown eyes searing at him through the dark. If there was one trait she had shared with her brother it was his temper. Shane's fuse had been much shorter than hers, and her anger was quieter—but it wasn't any less fierce. "Shane was all I had left. I _know_ he wasn't right in the head. I know he did a lot of wrong and I even know he put us all in danger, but that doesn't change the fact that he was my _brother_, and it definitely doesn't change the fact that you _killed_ him. So keep your apology. I don't want it."

With one final cold glare she turned on her heel and made her way back to the camp. There was nothing else to be said, and nothing else to be done. For now, all she could do was lie beside the dying fire and hope that sleep would find her.


End file.
